Consumed
by Silver Tallest
Summary: A Halloween oneshot for a-partofthenarrative's POTO 13 Nights of Halloween. Erik's obsession with Christine is all-consuming


Erik knew from the moment he saw her he would die from her beauty.

She stood in the back, away from the other choral members. Her lily white arms hugged herself in contrived comfort as she listened to the direction they were given. Through her garments, he saw the signifiers of mourning, as if her swollen eyes could not dictate that enough. Her hair was coiled up hastily, so flaxen tendrils swept alongside her face messily.

She was so melancholy, so demure, so _beautiful_.

Her gaze wandered up to the rafters, toward Erik, and for the briefest of moments, he swore they saw each other. Her blue eyes pierced his heart, but surely they could not glimpse him from such a height, in the shadows, no less.

"From the top!" The director announced, and the choir began singing. Through the slew of voices, he heard hers. Timid, wavering, but there was the potential of greatness and of emotion that could crumble empires. Although she was singing, her face was pointed to the heavens, beseeching a tiny sliver of its glory.

"_Christine_!" Hissed the stage manager, "you need to listen to the director. He said move downstage and you are most decidedly upstage."

The spell was broken, but Erik stood riveted as Christine squeaked out a "Oui, monsieur!" and swiftly moved to her designated spot.

His angel had a name.

_Christine_.

* * *

He tried to keep away from her, he really did. Her allure was something he could not shake, and he found himself entranced every time he could spy her. He deliberately went out of his way to catch a glimpse of her queued in the wings, roaming down the hallways, or exiting her cabriolet. The poor dear must not have been sleeping well, for her dark circles never dissipated nor did her swollen eyes. Her lips, however, stayed rosy and full, contrasted ever so prettily against her porcelain skin.

Erik noted that her hair was nearly as white as her skin, with a slight golden hue. When her bun eventually fell during the evening, which it was inevitable, it created a halo around her head that made him sigh. His ghostly hauntings slowly banished themselves as he fell deeper and deeper into obsession.

His compulsion to watch her grew too strong, that he even began peering at her private moments in her dressing room. Not too untoward, for he always looked away if she was in a state of disrobing, but to gaze upon her as she brushed out her shimmering locks. The way the candlelight captured her figure made her illuminate with an ethereal glow. She always sat facing away from the mirror, never directly at it.

The poor dear! Too demure to look upon herself the way Erik did. If she did, surely she would succumb to herself as he did watching her.

She would weep in these private moments, calling out to her Papa, begging for forgiveness, and beseeching an Angel of Music to aid her in her time of need.

In a moment of weakness, Erik called out to her, "I am here, child, your Angel of Music." Anxiety immediately gripped him, but the smile that bloomed on her face, her blue eyes sparkling, assuaged his fears.

* * *

The singing lessons went on for some weeks, but what was the passage of time when one is in love? Initially, Erik was content to listen to his little canary sing the tunes he commanded her. But as their lessons progressed, he was finding it more and more difficult to restrain himself.

He found contentment playing an imaginary scene in his head. That she would come to live with him, as his wife. In time, in the coldness of reality, he found himself warmed at the time he spent buying her clothes, gowns, coats, hats, and even undergarments - but standing in their mere presence made his hands quake with nervous anticipation. He was willing the illusion to life, the scene in his head, though he never presented these gifts to her, just locked them away in the little room that was once his mother's. Now it would not be tainted with thoughts of that woman, but instead of his angel from heaven. Yet this proved not to be enough.

One day, he found himself stealing her hair ribbon. She looked high and low on her vanity where it always sat, but to no avail.

He wound the satin string around his fingers, tilting his dark mask up to properly inhale the scent of her hair. He shuddered from the intoxicating aroma, aching to bury his unmasked face into her tresses. The ribbon sustained his wild thoughts, but soon it was not enough.

He craved more of her.

He stole innocuous things of hers. Items that could and would be easily replaced. He provided more luxurious trinkets to compensate the everyday tools that he snatched for his own pleasure. Her puff that pressed pearlescent powder to set her makeup on her flawless skin, a handkerchief with a simply embroidered C, the tin of rouge that was almost empty anyway. With these, he could almost feel the skin that the puff glided over, steal a kiss from the lips darkened with the rouge, and wipe her fears away with his own comfort.

Yet still, he was not satiated. The only way that he could have his fill with her is if he glutted himself with her presence.

And so, Erik began his plot to kidnap his Christine.

No, no, never kidnap. Spirit her away to his realm of wonder and illusion, just as she provided the illusion of beauty to him.

Erik always did love beautiful things.

Luring her from her dressing room into her mirror proved to be less difficult than he had imagined. She had grown thinner, more willowy, as if a sudden gust of wind might topple her over. Her eyes were sunken, surrounded by the dark circles that would not abate no matter how many times he lulled her to sleep. Her hair had even lost some of its luster.

But she was still breath-taking.

He pocketed his chloroform and cloth, realizing they were not required to seduce her away from the world above. She grasped his bony arm in a near swoon, and with a sweep of his cloak, Erik led Christine away.

He was positively giddy, holding back his giggling excitement so as not to disturb the poor girl. Her eyes were wide and terrified, but she spoke not a word, as Erik sang to soothe her. Down deeper into the cellars they traversed until they finally reached the edge of the lake.

"Come to me, my dear," Erik purred to her offering his hand to aid Christine into stepping into the gondola. She focused onto the water.

"It's so still," she whispered, uncertainty creeping in her soft susurration.

"The siren sleeps tonight," he assured her, smiling at his own horrible joke.

She nodded, uncomprehending, allowing him to hoist her into the boat. She cowered from the edge, nearly clinging to the hem of Erik's cape as he guided them across the lake. As they disembarked, she shirked away yet again when they got to the entrance of his humble home.

"There is nothing to fear, my dear," using the term of endearment yet again. Indeed, Christine's skittishness reminded him of a fawn entering a den of a hungry wolf. "You are welcome here," he extended his gloved hand to her once more, and she took it. A thrill shot up Erik as he all but dragged her inside.

She sat down slowly against the upholstered sofa, sluggishly absorbing her surroundings. Erik thrummed his fingers nervously as he watched her. Had he drugged her and not realized? Had he been in such a stupor of love that he could not remember slipping laudanum into her honey and tea this afternoon? Would she hate him for stealing her? He _stole_ her! He was a terrible person! No! Not a _person_! A monster!

Fear choked him and he crumbled before Christine, sobbing madly, beseeching her forgiveness. He kissed the hem of her skirts, wetting the ends with his tears. To his dismay, she placed a gentle hand on his back to still his hysterics. In an instant, his weeping ceased, his breath calmed, and he sighed dreamily as the Angel gazed back at him, no judgment marring her face. He reached out, his hands cupping her cheeks as she leaned closer to him. Her hair was a halo of gold, and she smiled, yes smiled, at the ragged creature before her. She placed a single kiss on the top of Erik's head, and all of his anguish leaked out from his eyes. He was blessed by this angel.

He was in such a state of euphoria, he hadn't noticed her fangs descend, saliva dripping from their points. He gasped to heaven as she sank her teeth into his neck, the hot blood filling her mouth. A noise choked in his throat as she drank more deeply, pain suddenly seizing him. She gripped him tighter and feasted on him, ashamed of her hunger, but driven by it.


End file.
